Once I Was Real
by threehundredandninetyfour
Summary: Before the First Wizarding War, the Marauders were merely Hogwarts students.
1. The Train Ride In

_**Platform Nine and Three Quarters **_

Sirius Black stepped confidently through the barrier to platform nine and three quarters. He rolled his wand absently in his hand as he emerged, glancing around at the newly materialised scene. The platform was bubbling with chatter and emotion. Heads were bobbing excitedly within a sea of 'goodbye's and 'I love you's. To his left, the red and black steam train almost twinkled in the light. Sirius read the 'Hogwarts' insignia and felt a surge of exhilaration. He gripped his trolley tight and eagerly rolled it closer.

"Will Master Black be requiring his travelling cloak?" croaked the small creature trotting at his side. Sirius had almost forgotten about the elf, and he'd certainly forgotten about the cloak. Without a word of thanks, he stooped to collect the robe and threw it haphazardly across his trolley.

"Don't miss me too much, Kreacher," cried Sirius, beginning to race towards the train. He was glad to be rid of the elf, whose eyes had been trailing his every move since they had departed Grimmauld Place. There was something about their dark, empty stare that made Sirius extremely uncomfortable.

"Master Black," the elf called, and Sirius cringed. Kreacher was trailing after him persistently, his fingers outstretched as though to catch at Sirius' robes. "Master Black, you must remember your parents' wishes."

Sirius stopped pushing the trolley and snapped around to face the elf. "I know Kreacher, I heard them the first time. And the second, and third as well." He drew his hands up before him and began waving them about dramatically, "You are not to dishonour the Noble House of Black, you are not to act in any way as to shame our family. If we hear word that you have done so, you will be transferred to Dumstrangs before the term is out. Mark our words, young man. We will not have the respect and reputation of this family diminished by a disappointment such as you. You may not live up to our expectations, but you are still a Black, the Noble blood still runs through your veins. Do not bring more dishonour to this family than you already have." He let his hands fall, leaning close to the elf. "I know Kreacher, I've heard it."

Those eyes looked on him with cold indifference. Sirius shuddered and pulled away, returning his grip to the trolley. "You are to return for Christmas," Kreacher said, his husky voice unwavering. Sirius gave a bark of laughter as he began to walk away. "Unless of course you do bring dishonour," the elf said quietly, a vindictive smile stretching across his pale face, "Then you'd best not return at all."

/

James strutted down the corridor, his wand balanced precariously behind his ear. With an air of confidence, the young boy was working his way down the length of the train. He glanced into every compartment as he passed, assessing each occupant for their worth.

"Nope," he chuckled, passing a gaggle of laughing seventh year girls. "Definitely not," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head at a scary looking third year. He continued in the manner until he was almost at the end of the carriage.

With a sigh he paused at the next compartment. The occupant was a chubby little lad about his age, with pale blond hair and a fist full of candy. James glanced back down the hall and shrugged: it was either him or the ugly grease ball and his red head friend next door.

Reluctantly he peeled back the compartment door, running a hand through his messy hair as he entered.

"I'm James, James Potter," he said confidently, standing before the boy. "You don't mind if I sit with you." It wasn't really a question, but the boy nodded avidly. "It seems the rest of this carriage is full of losers," James concluded plopping himself down on the seat opposite.

The chubby lad watched him intently, almost in awe. "Yeah," he squeaked, "Losers." He shifted nervously in his seat, frightened that this impressive James Potter would realise he was one such loser.

"Give me some of your candy?" James asked expectantly, his hand outstretched.

"Sure," the boy beamed, eager to facilitate. He shoved a packet of chocolate into James' grip and sat back excitedly. "I'm Peter, my Mum calls me Pete."

James nodded absently, examining the chocolate wrapper with a faint frown. "Cadbury," he mumbled, "never heard of it. Wait on, this is muggle stuff isn't it?"

Peter smiled weakly, "Yeah, I'm muggle born." He nervously busied himself with munching on his own stash of candy.

"Hmm, good for you," James said happily, breaking off a square and placing it in his mouth. Peter looked up, his eyes wide. James did not notice the admiration dripping from the boy's expression. "Not bad," he nodded, "pretty excellent actually. I hope you've got more of this."

Peter beamed and sprang from his seat. Beginning to rummage through his trunk over head, he pulled down piles and piles of the rich purple wrappings. "Plenty," he grinned, his little round face reddening with excitement.

"Excellent, mate," James said, munching contentedly. Peter looked as though he would explode with pride.

/

Remus sat alone in the furthest compartment, pressed up against the glass with a book in his hand. Absorbed in the volume as he was, he did not notice as the train shuddered into life and departed the platform. It was not until the suburban sprawl had turned into rolling hills that he looked up.

"Hi," said a small voice from by the door, "can I sit with you?"

Remus twisted in his seat to face the red head girl by the door. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her eyes red from crying. He simply nodded, unsure how else to respond.

She gave a small smile and moved to sit opposite him. "I'm Lily," she offered, extending a hand towards him. Remus looked at it cautiously, hesitating before he lowered his book to reciprocate.

"Remus," he said, shaking her hand. Lily's smile broadened as she settled back in her seat, turning her gaze out the window. Remus snuggled against the glass once more and returned his attention to his book. For a time they remained in comfortable silence.

The morning sun was giving the scenery outside a honey tinge. Trees raced past the window in streaks of warm yellow. Lily attempted to immersed herself in its splendour, but found she could not be distracted. She gave an involuntary sniff, to which Remus looked up.

Lily had brought her hand to her face and was tracing her fingers across her cheek to rid the tears. She looked so very sad, so very alone. Remus could identify with that desolate expression, the feeling of isolation that hung in her eyes. He felt compelled to comfort her, to place a hand on her shoulder and tell her it was ok. But something held him back. Instead he slackened his grip on the book, leaned forward in his seat and whispered.

"Lily," he said quietly, "are you alright?"

She looked over to him, her fingertips still lingering against her cheek. She gave another sniff.

"Yeah, I'll be alright. It's just... my friend and I, we had a fight." She let out a sigh and dropped her hand to her knee. "I know I don't know you, Remus," she said, her voice wavering, "but... would you mind if I..." She looked down to her fingers, twisting them about one another.

Remus remained quiet, watching as another tear rolled down her face. She did not finish her request. Instead she gave a resolute shake of her head and looked up, her green eyes hard.

"It's just that he, my friend... he changed so much the minute we came through the barrier to platform nine and three quarters. I don't know, I'm probably being silly, but it's almost like he's ashamed of me. I don't know what I've done, but every time someone passed our compartment, he'd act like I wasn't even there... like he didn't even know me." She looked back out the window, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Do you think it's terrible that I'm muggle born, Remus?"

In shock, Remus took a moment to absorb her confessions, rolling the final question over in his mind. _Was it possible that the students of Hogwarts could be so judgemental?_ The thought of what they would think if they discovered _his_ blood status sent a shudder down his spine.

"No," he said finally, his voice no more than a whisper. "Lily, of course not." He followed her gaze to the rushing scenery outside, "There are far worse things to be in this world, trust me."


	2. The Sorting

_**The Great Hall**_

The grand wooden doors to the great hall swung open, and an excited chatter spilt out onto the stairs. James stretched his neck in an attempt to see over his peers, gazing eagerly into the hall. Beside him, Peter twisted his fingers nervously, working them into a sweat.

"Relax, mate," James said, placing a hand on the chubby boy's shoulder. "Why're you so nervous anyway?"

Peter looked up to James and pulled his eyebrows together. "I'm going to get up there," he said in a high, panicked voice, "and they'll put that hat on my head, and _nothing's_ going to happen. Everyone's going to realise that I'm not really a wizard, and that I don't belong here, and then they're going to have to send me home, and I'm-"

"Woah, Peter," James cried, tightening his grip on the boy's shoulder, "take a breath, mate."

The throng of first years had begun to shuffle into the hall, following a stern looking woman who had introduced herself as Professor McGonagall. James kept his hand on Peter's shoulder as they began to move in.

"Look, none of that's going to happen. You'll get up there, the hat'll 'um' and 'ah' for a few moments, and then it'll cry out a house and you'll be fine," James assured him. "And if you're _really_ lucky, you'll be in Gryffindor with me!" He beamed and let his hand drop, turning away to eagerly absorb the scene.

Peter watched him in a daze of wonder before giving a small nod. He balled his fingers into sweaty little fists and walked a fraction taller.

/

The crowd of first years finally reached the front of the hall, waiting in a mingled sense of excitement and anxiety. At this moment, Sirius Black epitomized the former. He was squeezing his way eagerly through the mass, pushing other kids aside on the premise that he was Sirius Black, and that they'd 'better bloody well move'. When he was satisfied with his proximity, he began to bob up and down on his heels in anticipation.

Of course, Sirius already knew what house he was to be in: the Noble House of Black was practically synonymous with Slytherin. No, this was more of a formality, a rite of passage. It was merely a chance for the rest of the school to see that he did belong in the Black family, despite being a little different.

Professor McGonagall stood before them, casting a firm glance about the hall. Beside her a tattered old hat rested upon a three-legged stool. She looked to it, and silence fell.

Sirius watched as a seam in the hat appeared to rip anew, and from it spilt a low song. At its conclusion, the students broke into applause, eager to receive each new member of their house. As they settled once more, the Professor waved her wand and unrolled a scroll of parchment from which she began to read.

"James Potter," she articulated, peering over her glasses.

At that, a scruffy mass of black hair bounded from the crowd. The James boy raced towards the stool, twisting excitedly to place himself upon it. The professor lowered the hat onto the messy black hair with a subtly smile, stepping back to allow for the sorting.

Sirius watched as James Potter was swiftly declared a 'Gryffindor' and the table of red and gold broke into applause. He followed the boy with his eyes as he almost ran to his new house, tearing through the mass of first years with as much confidence as he himself had only moments ago.

"Peter Pettigrew," called Professor McGonagall, once the hall had settled.

There was a beat of silence in which no one moved. Sirius began to look around for this 'Peter' kid, when finally a chubby little lad wobbled forward. He had his head bowed with such anxiety that he almost stumbled on his way up the steps. In reaching the stool, he turned slowly to sit upon it, and Sirius could clearly see the boy's hands shaking. He gave a disdainful laugh.

The plump boy trembled on the stool with his fingers knotted and his eyes shut tight, as though he were pleading or wishing. Sirius glanced around the hall impatiently as the hat finally announced him a 'Gryffindor'.

Over at the Slytherin table he spotted Bellatrix. His deranged cousin was staring back at him from under an unrestrained mop of curly black hair. She gave him a devious smile and raised her eyebrow, before turning away to mumble with the boy next to her. Sirius huffed and turned back to the front. Of all his deluded relatives, Bellatrix was the worst. He could tell simply by that conniving look she had given that she expected failure from him. But Sirius would prove her wrong, he would show all his deranged relatives that he had what it took to be the heir of his family.

The hat was placed on Severus Snape's greasy head next, a boy who moved with a curved back and an empty expression. Sirius eyed him with contempt, disliking his slimy expression right from the off. He was sorted into Slytherin to Sirius' annoyance: now he would to be forced to actually converse with the ugly grease ball.

Lily Evans and Alice Logan were both sorted into Gryffindor next, neither of which Sirius payed much attention to. He was too busy tapping his foot in impatience. It wasn't until the name 'Remus Lupin' was called that Sirius found himself remotely interested.

The boy who claimed the name stepped forward absently, tucking something beneath his robes as he walked. He made his way up the stairs lightly, but with tender steps, as if it caused him physical pain to do so. When he reached the stool and spun to sit upon it, Sirius noticed just how thin he was. No taller than Sirius himself, the boy's bones seemed to jut out from within his robes.

It was as the hat was lowered to his head that Sirius noticed the scars he possessed. Even with the limited exposed skin, Sirius could see a furious mark twisting about his right hand. It seemed deep and extremely agonizing, almost purple in appearance. Then Sirius shuddered to discover that it was not the only scar on the fragile boy. As Remus shifted lightly upon the stool, Sirius could see a faint wound disappear beneath his robes. It was faded and presumably older than the one that marked his hand, but it led Sirius to question how many more the boy possessed.

Despite this subtly gnarled appearance however, the Remus boy seemed quite content. Sirius would even go so far as to describe his expression as indifferent as he waited upon the stool. His amber eyes trained on the back of the hall. It was while the hat deliberated over his sorting that Sirius sighted the book that was hidden beneath the lad's robes. It was clutched in his scared little hand, and Sirius found himself chuckling at the sight of it.

He caught himself and brought his hand to his mouth, startled by his own reaction. Remus was sorted into Gryffindor, and Sirius watched as he rose easily from the chair and limped lightly over to the cheering Gryffindor table. He seated himself beside a red head girl, who's name Sirius had already forgotten, and to his amusement, pulled the book from beneath his robe and started reading. Sirius could not hold back a smile.

When finally his name was called, Sirius pushed his way through the remaining students to reach the front. He marched with absolute poise to the stool, making himself comfortable upon it as he turned to face the school. Professor McGonagall lowered the hat to his head, and the hall fell quiet.

_Ah, another Black. This should be simple enough, _the hat hummed._ I see ambition, and a multitude of cunning. But wait, _it paused. Sirius shifted with annoyance, wishing the mangy old thing would hurry up. _There's daring and chivalry here as well, something I haven't seen in your relations for generations. Could it be...? Yes, I believe I have reached my conclusion, _Sirius tapped his foot against the wooden stool impatiently, _'better be... Gryffindor!"_

/

James watched from the Gryffindor table as a boy called Sirius Blake (or something like that), was sorted into his house. He launched from his chair and broke into an enthusiastic applause. Beside him, Peter and his fellow first years did the same, all smiling and ready to welcome their peer. However, it took James a good few seconds to realise that the remainder of Gryffindor house, and indeed the rest of the hall, was completely silent. Even the boy upon the stool was unmoving in shock.

James looked around, turning eventually to the second year boy beside him. "Hey," he whispered, "what's the deal? Why's no one clapping, and why's that Blake kid not coming over?"

The boy beside him - Frank he had introduced himself as – shook his head slowly.

"His name's _Black_," he corrected James, "and he belongs in Slytherin."

James looked back to the front. The kid on the stool was rooted where he was, and it was only when Professor McGonagall placed a hand on his shoulder that he seemed to breathe.

"What'dya mean?" James hissed at Frank.

"See that girl with crazy black hair over there," Frank whispered back, pointing to the Slytherin table, "that's Bellatrix _Black_. And her," he indicated a stern looking blonde, "Narcissa _Black_."

James nodded slowly, looking back to the Sirius boy as he walked dazedly towards them. He understood what Frank was trying to say: Sirius _belonged_ in Slytherin; his whole family seemed to be over there. James tried to imagine how he'd feel if he'd ended up in any house other than Gryffindor. He shivered and cleared his mind.

"Poor sod," he whispered to Frank.

"You mean poor _us_," Frank huffed, "we're the one's who're stuck with a _Black_."

James looked to the boy as he slowly seated himself at the end of the table. He didn't look too bad, James thought. In fact, he looked kind of remarkable. Under the obviously layers of shock and disappointment, James thought he could decipher a very promising air.

"I bet you're wrong," he whispered to Frank; but he received no reply, for the tables were beginning to fill, and the whole hall had turned its concentration to the feast.

/

Sirius felt as if he would never breathe properly again. All around him, students were eating happily, conversing with one another. He couldn't comprehend it. He sat with his eyes fixed upon his hands, his mind completely numb. He had betrayed generations of Slytherins, generations of Blacks. This would surely constitute as 'dishonouring the family name'. His parents would be furious. They'd probably never speak to him again.

His heart sunk as he recalled what Kreacher had said earlier that day: _you'd best not return at all_. There was no other way to look at this. He was doomed. His family had every reason to disown him, and they would have no hesitation in doing so.

"Hey there fellow Gryffindor," came a cheerful voice. Sirius did not look up. "Come on now, don't look so sad. We're not that bad."

"Leave me alone," Sirius whispered menacingly. He felt the pressure of a hand on his back. "I said, leave me alone!" he cried, whirling around with the intention of detaching the hand from its owner.

Before he could cause damage however, the boy standing behind him caught Sirius' fist in his with a wry smile.

"You'll have to be quicker than that," he chided, his messy black hair falling across his face. Sirius looked at him from behind thick, dark eyebrows.

"Let me go," he demanded, his silver eyes fierce.

"Only if you promise to keep your hands to yourself."

Sirius watched him darkly, giving a single nod. His hand was released.

"Well then," the boy said happily, squeazing himself to sit next to Sirius. "My name's James Potter," he announced, thrusting his hand forward expectantly.

Sirius glanced at it out of the corner of his eye, debating whether or not to tear it off. When he did not reciprocate, the Potter boy jabbed him in the side.

"Hey!" Sirius growled, snapping around to face the boy. "Would you just leave it!" he barked, his teeth grinding together.

"This is really getting to you, hey Black," James said, dropping his hand. He ran it through his scruffy hair and adjusted his glasses. "Look, mate. I'm sorry you're-"

"I'm not your 'mate'," Sirius muttered. He picked up a slice of meat and chewed it menacingly.

James sighed dramatically. "This is going to be harder than I thought," he breathed. "Now see her," James began, his voice forceful. He grabbed Sirius by the shoulder and turned him around. "You have no friends in this house, right?"

Sirius stared at the hand upon his shoulder, his mouth twisted angrily. This James boy needed to leave him alone before he snapped.

"Right?" James persisted.

Sirius breathed heavily.

"Ok, I'll take that as a 'yes'," James continued. "So you have no friends in this house, and all I have is that," he pointing to the chubby little boy beside him. "We'd make the perfect trio. I'd come up with plans, you'd beat the shit out of anyone who got in our way, and then Peter..." he looked over to the eager boy, "Peter can fetch us candy. He's bursting with it. What'dya say?"

Sirius balled his hands into fists, "What makes you think I would want a friend in this insufferable house?" he uttered.

James shrugged, unaffected by Sirius' dark expression. "Everyone needs a friend."

/

Remus Lupin had sat reading his book for the entire dinner feast. For the most part, he had been left in peace, only disrupted when a fellow Gryffindor asked him to pass the gravy or potatoes, and when Lily Evans fervently asked him what book he was reading. Otherwise, Remus was quite content to sit and work his way through _Hogwarts, A History_.

He had been vaguely aware however, of the small commotion taking place at the end of the table. When momentarily had looked up, he'd sighted a boy with messy black hair and glasses pestering a very hostile looking lad. From what he'd gleaned, the latter was not impressed by the conversation. But it was of no real concern to Remus. In fact, the only thing that was capable of tearing him away from his book was the eventual arrival of desert.

As the empty plates and half eaten leftovers dissolved into the table, Remus closed his book and placed it by his side. Before him, colourful plates laden with sweets were rising from the wood. He gave a small smile and reached eagerly for a lump of chocolate in the shape of a bat.

"Oh, so now you eat," giggled Lily at his side. She grinned softly and pushed her red hair behind her ear. "I was beginning to think that you never did. Though, that would explain why you're so thin."

Remus pulled his lip to one side in a half hearted smile. The way she watched him and noticed things about him was unsettling.

"I do like sweets," he said in a smile voice, munching on the bat's chocolate wing.

"Almost as much as that boy," Lily laughed, pointing to a chubby lad over Remus' shoulder. He turned around to see a blond boy shovelling bright green jelly into his mouth, his cheeks puffed out as he chewed. "Although, I think he likes them a little _too_ much."

Remus twisted back around to face her.

"This is Alice by the way," Lily said pulling a round faced girl forwards. She smiled at Remus and reached her hand out awkwardly to greet him.

"Hello," she said cheerfully, a smile on her face. She had short brown hair that relentlessly fell across her eyes. "I'm Alice Logan."

Remus watched her hand momentarily, looking between Lily and Alice. Then he tried for a grin and reached forward to receive her handshake. As he did however, his robes slipped away from his arm, exposing a rather deep and nasty looking scar.

Lily gasped at the sight of it, following Remus' movement as he quickly retracted his hand to hide the mark from Alice.

"Remus," she breathed, "what happened? That looks terrible!"

Remus shook his sleeve to hide the wound from sight, shaking his head slowly in attempted indifference.

"It's nothing," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I fell over a few days ago and scratched it-"

"You should see the nurse," Lily interrupted adamantly, "she'd be able to heal that up right away."

Remus looked down at the now hidden scar, knowing full well that there was nothing a Hogwarts nurse would be capable of doing to heal it. But he looked to Lily with a smile of thanks. "Yeah," he said, "I should do that. Thank you." He nodded and quickly busied himself with eating more chocolate before she could peruse the topic.

/

"Look, mate," James continued, his arm practically draped around the other boy's shoulders. "It's not that bad. Gryffindor's great: best house there is s'far as I'm concerned."

"I don't care what you think, _Potter_."

"Yeah, yeah. You've mentioned that. But s'pose you did," he leaned closer and gestured with his free hand. "Then I'd tell you that-"

"There is nothing you can say to make any difference!" Sirius finally snapped, jerking around to face James, his eyes wide. "Everything about this situation is screwed up! Everything about my _life_ is a mess! The rest of my family is over there," he threw a finger at the Slytherin table angrily, "and I'm stuck here with _you_, who won't stop bothering me," he jabbed the finger into James' chest, "and _him_, who hasn't stopped staring at me since this whole mess began!" Peter slouched in his chair and indeed looked away for the first time. "Why do you care so much anyway, Potter?" Sirius spat.

James did not hesitate at all. Every student at Gryffindor table seemed to be watching the commotion now, the same question written on their faces. Under their gaze, James leaned forward and took a pumpkin pasty in his hand.

"Because, _Black_," he said calmly, "unlike your darling family over with the snakes, I actually agree with the sorting hat. You belong _here_." He placed the pasty resolutely in his mouth and chewed it with conviction. "Welcome to Gryffindor, my _friend_."


	3. The Dormitories

_**Gryffindor Tower**_

Peter trailed behind the two taller boys in their newly instated trio, bobbing on his heels in an attempt to join their conversation. He caught snippets of James' passionate speech, straining to hear over the excited chatter of his fellow first years.

"...and then there's Owen: you know, chaser for the Holyhead Harpies," James said, informing Sirius of Gryffindor's many noteworthy alumni. "And of course, Dumbledore: a man who needs no explanation."

"Johnson's never scored a point, and Dumbledore's nothing but an old crackpot," Sirius insisted, as James gasped dramatically. "You'll have to do better than that to convince me that Gryffindor's worthy of my presence."

James pulled his hand to his mouth in theatrical indignation. "You don't truly believe that, do you Black?" he asked, his voice high with disbelief. "Albus Dumbledore is a talented, passionate, wonderful wizard, and a downright amazing headmaster."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Potter."

They had reached the end of a low lit corridor and the first years were beginning to slow. Before them hung a large portrait of a plump old lady in a pink silk dress. She eyed them closely as the hoard approached.

"Password?" she requested. The Gryffindor prefect stepped forward, muttering something that none of the three boys could hear, and the portrait swung open.

"Ok, ok," James said, regaining his poise, "if Gryffindor tower doesn't impress you, then I'll gladly charm your robes green and pass you off as that ugly 'Snape' kid so you can be in your precious Slytherin house."

Sirius gave a bark of laughter, "No deal. There's no way in the hell I'm going anywhere near that greasy little git."

James' imploring expression changed instantly into one of pride. His chest swelled and he tightened his grip on Sirius' shoulder. "See!" he almost shouted, "I knew you weren't all bad!" He glanced excitedly at the students around him, gesturing towards Sirius. "Did you hear that everyone? Sirius Black thinks Snape's a git!"

A pack of girls in front of them turned around and giggled loudly to one another; Peter almost broke into applause; and a stern looking red head to James' right merely rolled her eyes and turned to the girl next to her.

James gave a loud sigh. "See, mate. We're going to get along perfectly." He beamed and gave Sirius a one armed hug.

"Alright, Potter. Settle down," Sirius said, patting him reluctantly on the head. "And stop calling me 'mate'."

/

Remus trailed behind the excited group as they piled through the portrait hole and into Gryffindor common room. He glanced about with an intrigued smile on his face, recognising many facets of the castle from his extensive reading.

He was the last one to step through the portrait hole, taking full advantage of his peers' disregard. He stepped softly over the threshold and gathered with his peers by the fire place. The common room was warmly lit by the fire, casting a yellow pulsing glow across the cosy furniture. Ornate red tapestries and artworks hung from the round walls, the occupants of which huddled close to watch the new students.

"_This_ is Gryffindor common room," the prefect announced, throwing his hand about the room. Remus heard a messy haired boy at the front of the crowd give a chuckle, mumbling something that made the prefect blush. "Just for those of you who didn't _know_," he said defensively to the boy. He shook his head as though to clear his thoughts, and straitened his neck to address the wider audience. "Now, the girls' dormitories are up those stairs and to the left; boys': the same on your right. And before you go, know that breakfast begins at seven and ends at eight, and that your first Charms lesson shall begin tomorrow at nine. Goodnight."

Chatter broke out once more as the prefect stepped down from beside the fire, giving the boy with the scruffy black hair an unfriendly stare. Lupin watched as that boy then grabbed the wrist of the taller lad beside him, pulling him eagerly towards the stairs.

"Fantastic, isn't it?" Lily whispered, leaning close. Remus looked away from the taller boy and followed her gaze around the room. He nodded mutely. "I can't believe I'm actually here," she said with a smile, "I mean, two months ago I didn't even know _here_ existed. Isn't that amazing? I'm a witch, and tomorrow we will begin to use magic," her smile broadened and she clutched excitedly at Lupin's arm. "It's like a fairy tale!"

Lupin flinched as her fingers dug into a tender wound on his arm, but he braved a chuckle and nodded once more.

"I know exactly how you feel," he said softly, "like a dream come true."

/

"Shotgun that bed!" cried James, scrambling with Sirius to get the four-poster farthest from the door.

"Not a chance, Potter!" called Sirius, grabbing the smaller boy by the wrist and heaving him back. "If anyone's having that bed, it's going to be me!"

James scoffed, pushing his glasses up his nose. "And you're just that special then, aren't you _Master Black_."

"As a matter of fact," Sirius huffed, launching himself onto the red covers, "I am _that_ special." He gave a wolfish smile and glared back at James, making himself comfortable on the bed.

Peter watched from the doorway as James stuck his tongue out indignantly and ran a hand through his hair.

"Fine," he said, crossing his arms and marching to another bed. "I really wanted this one anyway. That was just a ploy to distract you from the splendour of _this_ bed." He sprawled out over the covers and sighed with exaggerated comfort. Sirius rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"Oh, Potter," he sighed, "you're a git."

James smiled. "Sure am, _mate_."

Peter waddled over to the bed by the door, sitting on its edge to watch as Sirius chucked a pillow at James' head.

"Hey guys," Peter said, repeating himself a little louder when they did not respond. "Guys!"

"What's up, Pete?" James asked, hurling the pillow back at Sirius.

"Who's bed's that then?" he wondered, pointing to the empty four-poster by the window.

Sirius caught the pillow and grinned back as James stuck his tongue out once more.

"Dunno," James mumbled, his words distorted by his pointed tongue.

"Must be that Lupin kid's," Sirius suggested, looking to the bed next to his.

"Who?" James and Peter asked at once.

Sirius gazed back at them. "You know, the skinny boy with the amber eyes."

James shook his head; Peter squinted to concentrate his memory.

"Nope, still no idea who you're talking about," Peter said.

Sirius sighed, "He had the neat brown hair and the book beneath his robe. Come on, he was the only other boy sorted into Gryffindor!" The two stared blankly at him. "Big amber eyes, scar on his-"

Just as Sirius' voice began to escalate to an agitated shout, the dormitory door swung open. The boy in question walked lightly into the room, his eyes fixed on his book. Without looking up or acknowledging his roommates' presence, he walked straight into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

For a moment, the three boys were quiet, watching the closed door.

"Was that him?" Peter asked after a time.

James chuckled. Sirius rolled his eyes, "Of course that was him, you numpty!"

"Oh," Peter said, his face turning red. "Just wanted to be sure."

"Do you think he heard me?" Sirius asked, looking frantically to James.

The other boy was still laughing, his black hair falling over his eyes. He took a moment to breathe, composing himself by running his hand through his hair. "Nah, mate. I think he was too absorbed in his book. Bit odd though, isn't he?"

Peter nodded adamantly, "Yeah, very odd."

Sirius merely shrugged, looking a little relieved.

"Anyway," James said, leaning forward on his bed, "let's have a little getting-to-know you session, shall we?" He rubbed his hands together expectantly and looked to his two new friends. They made no show of opinion, but James was not deterred. "Excellent," he beamed, "I'll start then."

He then launched eagerly into a recount of his life since birth, taking every opportunity to paint himself in and impressive, if not heroic, light. He told an enthralled Peter of how he had single-handedly saved his cousin from a blood-thirsty garden gnome, and how, at the age of seven, he had mastered the art of flying.

"You're so full of it, Potter," Sirius muttered indifferently, toying with his bed sheets.

Sometime around the avid retelling of James receiving his Hogwarts acceptance letter, Remus Lupin reappeared from within the bathroom. His hair was wet and he was wrapped tightly in a towel, but his eyes were still trained upon the thick volume as he read. Padding across the floor with bare feet, he walked straight past Sirius without so much as looking up. The three boys watched silently as he lifted his pyjamas from his trunk and hopped into bed, pulling the curtains shut behind him.

They stared at the closed red drapes, their brows pulled confusedly.

"What the _hell_?" James mouthed to Sirius, receiving a bewildered shrug in reply.

"He's so weird," Peter almost shouted in a whisper. James and Sirius turned in unison to 'shush' him, shaking their heads at his lack of tact. "What?" he asked earnestly.

"Oh, nothing, Peter," James said laughingly, "your turn."

Peter shyly gave a quick narration of his uneventful childhood, telling of the years spent at muggle school, and how his parents had believed his acceptance letter to be a cruel joke.

"Got a lot of pranks pulled on you then, did you Pete?" James asked, forced sympathy in his voice. Peter nodded meekly. "Great, you'd have plenty of good ideas then!" James declared, shifting excitedly on his bed. "And what about you, sir Black the fourth?" he said with a dramatic twirling of his hand.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. "None of your business, Potter."

"Oh, come now, Black," James uttered, his voice like honey. "Don't be like that. Pete and I told you _our_ life stories," he said with a flutter of his eye lids.

"Neither of which I cared for, nor listened to," Sirius shot back. He crossed his arms, holding James' glare.

"Fine," James huffed. "Let me guess your story then."

Sirius gave a bark of laughter. "Alright then, this should be fun."

"Ahem," James cleared his throat, rubbing his index fingers against his temples as if preparing to use telepathy. "You were born into an ancient pure-blood family and were raised a snooty little pure-blood. Your parents gave you everything you ever wanted, and you were taught that was the way it should be. You were educated on how horrid we Gryffindors are, with our bravery, courage and downright good-looks," James spared a breath to wink in Sirius' direction. "And that's why, when you were sorted into this _obviously _superior house, you were so upset: you realised you just weren't good-looking enough for us." He dropped his fingers from his face and beamed at Sirius, "How's I do?"

Sirius hurled his pillow at James in reply. "You're a git."

James beamed. "I'll take that as a: _perfect, you got everything right_."

"Ha," Sirius laughed. "Hardly. Though I will give you one thing: I was taught to loath Gryffindors; but not because of your bravery."

"Because of our downright good-looks," James insisted.

"Shut your face, Potter. I'm being serious here."

"Alright, alright. You were taught to hate us because of our good-looks, _and_..." he trailed off expectantly.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I don't know. Just... everything about you, I supposed. Everything you _are_ goes against all I've ever been taught. I mean, you're muggle-born for Merlin's sake," he said at Peter, rubbing his palms against his eyes. He exhaled deeply. "I just don't know what to think. I've been taught to treat you like scum, and that you deserve it. I was told that your kind was dirty and... that you didn't deserve to be..." he trailed off.

James rose from his bed, walking over to Sirius. He sat down next to him, wrapping his arm around the bigger boy's shoulder. This time, Sirius did not protest.

"It's ok, mate. We can un-teach all that rubbish."

"And you," Sirius said, lifting his head from his palms. "You're a blood traitor. My parents discussed your family once. They said your parents fraternised with muggles and half-bloods, and that you were just as bad as them." Sirius gave a hopeless sigh and returned his head to his hands.

James tightened his grip around Sirius' shoulder.

"So you kind of... hate us both then, huh?" Peter asked hesitantly from across the room.

Sirius shook his head against his palms. "That's just it," he muttered, "I've been taught to despise muggle-borns, and blood traitors, and probably whatever that kid is," he gestured towards Remus' drawn curtains. "I'm supposed to hate you _all_... but I don't."


	4. The Morning

_**Gryffindor Tower**_

The morning sun was slowly creeping out from behind the mountainous horizon, trickling cool light into the dormitory. Remus Lupin lay on his back, his hands knotted over his stomach as he watched the canopy above. It was only moments past dawn, and he had been watching that same stitch of frayed red draping for the past hour. To his left, James Potter breathed muffled snores into his pillow, twitching slightly as his messy hair tickled his face. Peter Pettigrew slept opposite, continuously kicking his blankets off and yanking them back up again in a dreamy state of distress. But it was the quiet whimpering coming from Remus' left that captivated his ears above all else. Sirius Black sounded as though it was causing him physical pain to sleep as he was, and with each deep breath, he released a helpless whine.

Remus lay and wondered what horrors were hypnotizing Sirius' mind. He thought of fire and knives and all manner of agonizing curses, but nothing seemed to justify the almost verbal cries the boy gave.

Finally, Remus could endure the twitching, shifting and whining no more. He swiftly threw the covers away and pulled himself upright. Taking a moment to rub a tender hand over the scar on his neck, he jumped lightly out of bed and made his way to the bathroom.

As he padded barefoot across the room, he took care to dodge the messy upheaval of his roommates' trunks. Their scattered clothing had managed to carpet the floor within the night. Remus pulled his mouth to one side in disapproval, breathing heavily to prevent the annoyed expression reaching his eyes. As he walked, his leg continued to pain him. It had been almost a month since the wound was struck, but the limp it produced was still noticeable.

Once in the bathroom, Remus quietly shut the door behind him. He changed into his school robes as rapidly as his multitude of injuries would allow, before stepping over to the mirror. The scar that ran from his neck to his shoulder was as red and inflamed as it had been the night of its infliction. _You should see the nurse,_ Lily had said, _she'd be able to heal that up right away_. Remus traced his fingers over the ridge, wincing slightly. He sighed and pulled his collar tighter. It had been six years, nothing would _heal it up_.

Crossing back through the dormitory, Remus glanced at the rising sun. It had just reached five thirty, and the light was beginning to warm as it rose in the sky. It was casting eerie shadows about the room, urging him to leave. Soundlessly, Remus made his way to the door, descending the spiral stairs into the deserted common room below.

Bathed in warming sunlight, the cosy circular room was completely still. Save for the muffled snores of the resident portraits, nothing made a sound. Remus breathed in the peaceful quiet, running his hand across the rough stone walls. The scent of ancient furniture and dying fire hung thick in the air. He loved this time of the morning, when everything was pressing with silence. He adored the utter tranquillity of empty corridors and the soft light of the rising sun.

With a small smile on his little face, Remus crossed the room in eager strides. He reached the portrait hole swiftly, pushing it open and stepping out into the deserted corridor.

/

The sun sat high above the rocky mountains, pouring harsh light onto James' face. He shifted uncomfortably in his bed, moving his hand to his face and squinting hard. It was well past eight, and in realising this, James snapped upright with wide eyes. He glanced to the clock by his bed to confirm: eight forty-six.

"Blast!" James cried, hurling his sheets away. They'd missed breakfast. "Black!" he called, scrambling out of bed. "Black, Peter! Get up!" He was hunched over, wading through the mess of clothes strewn across the wooden floor. In finding his robes, he raced to the bathroom to change.

Sirius snuggled comfortably into his bed, the remnants of a dark nightmare all but forgotten. Slowly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes. The startling shades of red and gold that greeted his bleary sight snapped him awake. A moment of disorientation sent cool chills down his spine. _Hogwarts_, he reminded himself, _Gryffindor tower_. He blinked and rubbed his hands to his eyes. They felt hot and heavy. Had he been crying?

"Get up, Black!" James shouted, running from the bathroom with his school robes in shambles. "We're late!" He skidded to his four-poster, diving into his trunk at its foot.

Sirius turned frantically to the clock beside him: eight forty-nine.

"Damn!" he cried, throwing himself from the bed and gathering whatever resembled robes from the floor.

"Hurry!" James demanded, as Sirius practically flew to the bathroom door. He continued to rummage through his trunk, throwing all manner of items onto the already chaotic pile he'd created. "Damn it," he muttered, "where _is_ it?"

Sirius heaved the door open, his uniform just as dishevelled as James'. "What're you doing? Come on, let's go!" he called, racing to the door.

"Wand!" James shouted back, his head buried deep in his trunk.

"On the canopy," Sirius instructed, pointing to the top of James' four-poster. The pair looked to the place with cocked heads and confused expressions.

"How'd it get up there?" James wondered, frowning to recall when he'd thrown it up there.

"Never mind that!" Sirius cried, "Just grab it and let's go!"

James nodded and jumped to retrieve his wand. "What about Pete?" he asked, following Sirius to the door.

Sirius grumbled, grabbing the clock from his bedside table, giving the winder a twist, and hurling it at the sleeping boy. Peter didn't so much as flinch. "There," Sirius said, "happy?"

James shrugged, racing ahead of Sirius and out the door. "When'd you set it for?" he called, taking the spiral stairs three at a time.

"Some time soon," Sirius replied, before adding an uncertain, "I hope."

They reached the portrait hole without faltering, heaving it open and racing through at a gallop.


End file.
